The Chronicles of ShinRa
by redreject
Summary: Pregame series. A peek into the lives of everyone we know and love before the whole mess started. May contain bad language. Chapter 2 up!
1. Morning Ritual

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7. Honestly, are these infernal things really necessary? Sigh

Look! Look! I'm writing something while both sober and with a normal amount of hours sleep! We'll see how this one turns out, eh?

-----------------Why Doesn't This editor let me keep my line breaks------------------------------

He got up, quickly and efficiently made his bed, then stripped out of his boxers and shirt, and put them in the wash. He walked to the shower, set it to the perfect temperature, and stepped under. He spent exactly seven minutes washing, shaving, and cleaning his teeth. He stepped out of the shower and turned it off, and vigorously dried himself with a large towel. That went in the wash too. He went into the bedroom, took the normal three steps to his closet, and removed his uniform for the day.

Methodically and carefully, he began to dress. Clean boxers and socks, followed by a neatly pressed pair of trousers with a well defined crease up the sides. Next, a button up shirt, meticulously fastened so that all the thread holes were exactly horizontal. He buttoned his trousers top button equally over the bottom of the shirt. He then took a pitch black tie, and fastened it about his neck so that both lengths were perfectly equal, the thinner hidden by the thicker. He moved to his small desk where his side arms and holster sat. He put on the holster, quickly assembled the freshly cleaned weapon, put a new clip in, and thumbed the safety on. He slid it into its holster. He placed is other weapons into their holsters as well, then slid his vibrant blue blazer over them, doing up both buttons. Combing his hair into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band, he walked to the door.

He stepped out of his bedroom, and down to his small kitchenette. He quickly prepared himself a protein shake and a breakfast bar. He drank the shake, making sure not to spill a drop on his neat uniform. He flipped the television on and checked the morning's news and weather. Seeing it would be raining soon, he quickly ran out and put the hood up on his car. After returning to collect his paperwork for the day, he perched his dark sunglasses on his nose, and walked out of his front door again, pausing to lock it. Quickly walking to the car, he got in and started the engine just as it began to drizzle. He ate the breakfast bar and drove to his workplace, keeping well under the 40 mph speed limit. He arrived at the Shin-Ra tower, and parked his car in his exclusive spot. He retrieved his pass and security papers from his briefcase and strode through the automatic doors. He signed in at the front desk and walked to the glass elevators at the rear of the expansive lobby. He walked in, and pushed a button for one of the higher floors, swiping his card as he did so.

The elevator 'dinged' pleasantly and he stepped out. He passed people who greeted him at lunchtimes without any exchange. He finally stopped in front of a pair of oak double doors bearing the legend 'Dept. of Administrative Research' and swiped his card through the small reader. He entered his code, and the small LCD screen beside the reader told him he was ten minutes early, and had no reports due. He strolled in, and gave curt nods to his two colleagues sat at their desks either side of him. He carried on walking forwards until he stopped at his superior's desk.

"Turk Lynley reporting for duty, Sir." He gave a smart salute as he said this.

The long haired Wutain before him gave a weary sigh, and said "Good morning Reno" Pausing, Tseng added "Get on with it, and start work"

"Sir!" With that Reno took a step back, and turned to his own desk, which rested away from the adjacent wall to Tseng's. Unceremoniously chucking his briefcase on top of it, he turned back to his boss' desk. His other colleagues watched this daily ritual amused boredom, Tseng with resigned irritation. Reno placed one foot behind him, braced, and launched himself forward. He rolled in all three axis knocking paper and other office paraphernalia everywhere. He landed sprawled across Tseng's lap, his shirt untucked, all buttons except the bottom two popped, his blazer nearly hanging off him and half his hair coming away from his ponytail. He flipped his shades into his hair, and grinned up at Tseng.

"So…miss me?"

Rude and Elena merely sighed in exasperation and continued working as they heard Reno yelp in pain.

--------------------Still having toruble with these damned Break line-----------------------------

Geez……something tells me that just wasn't funny. I need something better to stick in the punch line. Shrugs Anyhoo, it was just a starter to kick this thing off. I took the name Lynley from another fic I read; it seems to suit Reno well. This is gonna be a series thing, because Rehash died. I am looking at a few other games to dissect though. Eyes DMC/MGS

I already have a few more chapters in the works for this thingummy-bob. I think the writing of this turned out a lot better than my other fics, even if the punch line sucked. Well, as I say, this was only a starter.

Seeyall soon!


	2. Idle Hands

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7

Wewt! Thank you kindly for all my reviews!

Sylverskyz: Thankyuuuu! I was kind worried that everyone would hate that punch line, but as long as even one person liked it, it makes it all worthwhile.

Robot Parade: I know, I Know. It's a problem I have, I couldn't think of anything else to put in place of 'he' T-T. Thank you for liking the ending though!

Dark: I'm sooooo sorry! You're gonna hate me, but Rehash is dead. However….your stories are quite funny! Seriously, you're welcome to continue Rehash if you like. I'd like to see someone with your sense of humour continue it. But that's only if you want to of course :P.

Cueball: Seems like something he'd do to me too XD. Yeah, I know Elena Joins after Reno gets whipped, but in putting her in because three Turks just isn't enough. :P

Look! Another chapter! Aren't you all happy? Rejoice, and offer thanks to one god of your choice. Then read.

-------------------------This is the only border that seems to work…------------------------

Sephiroth was frustrated. Really frustrated. He didn't know what to do with himself. He had come in this morning to find he had done all his paperwork the previous evening. His desk was bare, save for his small 'executive toy' whirring away. He flipped on the computer. There was nothing interesting on it. Not even an email from Zack inviting him out to get sloshed and pick up a girl. (Zack claimed, in his words, that Sephiroth was in need of 'A damn good lay', an impression that Sephiroth's stick-in-the-ass attitude had done nothing to allay) He started a game of Solitaire. Ten seconds later, he turned the computer off. He flicked spit balls into his wastepaper bin across the room for a minute. He twiddled his thumbs for a second. Then two. Then two more. He picked up his computer, his tower, and his keyboard. He brought them to the window, and hurled each of them to the pavement 50-odd floors below, making sure they each hit a Shin-Ra wage slave's car.

Sephiroth HATED having nothing to do. He HATED being bored, HATED wasting his time and HATED being paid an astronomical amount of money to sit on his well toned, made for moving ass, acting like the company poster boy! He would give any amount of that money just to have something even remotely distracting from the mundane office hours. A clear shot to Palmer's office would be a nice start, for example. A high powered cricket ball launcher would be another. Twitching slightly, he poked his executive toy's occupant for a minute. It squealed. He poked it more. He growled.

He began to draft a complaint to the president, stating why he thought he should have more control over the military and its organisation, why he needed more work, and why he was dissatisfied with his current role in the company. He then wrote down how he thought an office apposite Palmer's would decrease his level of stress, and requested that there be a restraining order put on Hojo in order to keep him away from Sephiroth.

He started to really get going with his complaint, writing spirited arguments as to how he was Shin-Ra's prized SOLDIER, their model general, and how it irked him slightly when all he was required to do was sit in an office all day. Of course, the President was welcome to use him as a desk boy, but when he didn't even have to that, just sit on his ass all day, well that really pissed him off Mr. President. Of course you wouldn't understand, you're always to busy having your head rammed straight up your ass, calling useless meetings and giving everyone something to do except ME! I'd like to see you train your body to the highest degree, single handedly conquer a country and then be expected to sit in an office doing nothing all day. One of these days, I swear I'm gonna come up to your office, and ram Masamune straight up YOUR GODDAMN…

Noticing his complaint had once again degenerated into a stream of abuse and filth, he sighed, and screwed up the sheet of paper in front of him. He launched it with one hand over to the other side of the room, whereupon it sailed neatly through a miniature basketball hoop, and into a small wastepaper basket that sat just to the left of the other one. It triggered a sensor and changed the number of the small scoreboard above it. It now read three hundred and forty one. Unlike its rightmost brethren however, this bin didn't have a bottom. The ex-complaint passed right through the floor into a small incinerator. It was burnt, and the heat was used to drive a small turbine, which generated a miniscule amount of energy and sent it back to the small device on Sephiroth's desk. Sephiroth noticed that a lot of energy had accumulated over the last week, a testament to just how irritated he was with his position. He decided he would burn off a little of that excess energy.

He moved the small dial beneath the motorised hamster wheel up from three to five. He watched with mild amusement as the tiny chicobo inside the wheel was forced to run faster because of the increased pace. A minute later he moved it up to six, and the little chicobo ran even faster to avoid tripping and being spun into mush. Sephiroth had devised this little toy of his when he noticed he was getting through paperwork and over-eager trainees at a rate of knots, leaving him with nothing to do. Taking advantage of the electronic know-how course he had taken, along with the sick pleasure he derived in watching small cute things suffer, and diverted a small amount of power to constantly run a small motorised wheel on his desk. He even added the incinerator to supplement his tool of fluffy-suffering.

Smiling slightly to himself, he turned the dial up to eight. No animal he had ever put in here had ever managed to avoid tripping past eight. The only animal that had hit eight was a goblin-baby he had snagged while on Zeio Island. Those things were damn tough, but it had broken in the end. It had clung on to the end with its little glove shaped pads, until its legs had finally succumbed to the circular dragging motion of the wheel. However the Chicobo was a strong competitor. Even baby Chocobos were renowned for there speed and endurance, and Sephiroth had been feeding it many greens in preparation. What's more, he had stolen it from Hojo's lab, so who knew how strong it was. Sephiroth hoped it would last much longer than the others…

He watched with fascination as the small creature carried on strong even at eight. He waited a minute, before turning it up to nine. He watched with moderate amusement, and even respect, as the Chicobo levelled itself to the pace, its crimson eyes shining with determination. The black tips of its unusually long hair bounced as it sprinted, but Sephiroth could easily see it was beginning to struggle. He was about to end it, and turn it up to ten, when he noticed something unusual about the chicobo.

A red aura was beginning to swirl around it. Sephiroth watched, fascinated, as the unmistakeable signs of a limit break began to appear. The little chicobo gave a last sprint of before the swirl erupted into a blinding light. When it cleared, Sephiroth was amazed to find an entirely different creature running in the wheel. It still had a vaguely chicobian shape, but it was vastly different from before. Where it had soft downy fur before, it now had dark leathery skin with small spikes protruding. There was a cold glow to its blood coloured eyes, and its beak was curved down in a vicious fang-type affair. Its wings were upraised and beating slightly in an attempt to propel it along.

Sephiroth was impressed. If Hojo could make chicobos look like this, then there was no telling what he could do to humans. He might be able to make a god that could destroy the world or something. The chicobo appeared to be having less trouble now, and even appeared to be sending the odd defiant glare in Sephiroths direction. Sephiroth decided he liked, and wondered if he should keep it as a pet. He then thought Hojo would want to know why his Demonic chicobo was in Sephiroths office, and quickly decided against the idea. He then realised that he was now bored of the chicobo. Sighing, he decided to end his fun. He quickly flipped the dial past nine, all the way up to the maximum setting of fifteen. The evil eye of the chicobo quickly widened as he slipped, and jammed his beak into the bottom of the wheel. Which all too soon for the chicobos liking became the top of the wheel. A high pitched 'Weeeeerrkkk' began to sound throughout the office as the chicobo was spun at a speed of roughly 10 revolutions a second.

Sephiroth watched, giggling slightly as the miniature bird frantically beat its wings and legs, trying to remove its beak from between the bars of the wheel. It succeeded, and thus became so much leather-feather thrashing around the inside of the wheel. Eventually, Sephiroth decided to end the suffering of the chico-demon. He pressed a small button next to the speed dial, and a small hatch opened in the wheel. Half a millisecond later, the bird was propelled outwards from its place of torment with a slight whistling noise. Sephiroth followed the arc of its flight with his head, giving a small smile of inner bliss when it hit a small, red crater in the opposite wall. The unfortunate bird slid down an equally red groove in the wall in a highly comical fashion, until it reached the lip of another customised wastepaper bin. It slipped off the wall with a neat 'schluck', and fell into the bin. Another sensor changed the number above the bin to six thousand and fifty one.

Sephiroth giggled again as he saw a smattering of gore fly up from inside the bin. He had installed a small meat grinder in there, and another incinerator turned the mush that was left into more useful energy for his little toy. He stopped giggling quickly when he noticed a pair of boots just past the bin, standing on his threshold. He quickly schooled his face into an innocent, if bored, mask and looked up into the face of Zack, his faithful lieutenant.

…Who was standing with his mouth open and his eyebrow raised, a complicated look to say the least, but who's to say the man wasn't talented.

"Yes?" Sephiroth said, as though nothing had happened, certainly not that he had been slinging small animals around his room, and most definitely not that he had been giggling. The Great General did not giggle. He guffawed loudly with his shoulders shaking, his arms by his sides, and his head raised. That was probably the reason his laugh sounded so fake. He was a giggler.

Zack made a valiant effort in asking what Sephiroth had just been doing but (wisely) thought better of it.

"Um…trainees? Fresh bunch just arrived, and they need an officer to combat test 'em." Zack ploughed on regardless of what he had just seen. Sephiroth just nodded, and gave the small grin that would be an insanely wide grin on any other person's face. At last he had something to do. Not the trainees, they would only occupy him for about ten minutes. It was the paperwork involved with the medical insurance company ShinRa included with the benefits of being a trainee. If Sephiroth inflicted the right injuries, the paperwork could last for a few days comfortably. He snagged Masamune from beneath his desk and followed a slightly nervous Zack out of the room. He closed the door and switched off the lights.

--------------------------------------Five minutes later… ----------------------------------------

Two glowing blood red eyes peeked out of the rim of the bin that was supposed to serve as his doom. Slowly, painfully, it hauled itself out, dragging a slightly blood-stained bronze gear with it. It slumped on the floor, the strength of its limit quickly fading. Its left wing had been completely torn off before it had managed to escape the infernal machine. It would change back to normal soon. Acting quickly, it used the last of its power to heat the bronze into a malleable texture. Next, it used its psychic chico-demon powers to mould the bronze into a wing shape. It quickly sealed the artificial limb on in place of his old one, and stemmed the bleeding with a quick cure spell floating around in his demonic mind. Exhausted, the chicobo slumped to the floor just as it transformed back into a normal chicobo.

It lay there for a full five minutes, regaining its breath, its feathery little chest fluttering while it struggled to breath. Soon however, it heard footsteps approaching. Hauling itself to its little claws, it quickly ran behind the bin furthest from the door, just as the door opened to reveal the object of its suffering striding in with a gleeful little smile on his face. Its beady little eyes narrowed in hate, and the little chicobo swore to take revenge for its lost limb. He used his new bronze wing to smash a small hole in the wall and escaped to recover his strength and bide his time… It would have its revenge on that scum sooner or later...

------------------------------------Wheeeeeeeee! Borders!---------------------------------------

Sephiroth looked up from where he was happily cleaning blood and bone fragments when he heard a small crunch. He looked up, but could see nothing that could have caused the noise. He sneezed. Vaguely wondering if he was coming down with a cold, he returned to his cleaning.

…Ok that was a little more than I usually write, but meh. Once I pop, I just cant stop! Anyhoo, I hope to have the next chapter up within a week or two. Knowing the speed I write, probably three :s However, This one might involve some actual abuse of palmer instead of just mentioning it.

Hope you enjoyed this chappeh, and hope you will continue to read! Drop me a review on anything you think I could improve on, cause I write to improve XD

Laters!


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